


Shoved out into the open (pushed into motion)

by kiranightshade



Series: My Lost Soul (Lead Me to Redemption) [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: "Coming Out", Alpha Mate Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Peter, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Beta Derek, Family Dinners, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Incest, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Manipulative Stiles, Pack Building, Pack House, Pagan Holidays, Paganism, Peter is a seductive little shit, Polyamory, Protective Bobby, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Stiles is Legal, Stiles is the Left Hand, Stilinski Family Feels, Wolf Stiles, petty revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: The secrets out. Life goes on and there's an entire world they need to prepare for.





	Shoved out into the open (pushed into motion)

**Author's Note:**

> I had to rewrite a good chunk of this and tbh I'm still upset about it. I know it's not as good as it was going to be but *shrugs*
> 
> Anyways enjoy. I know I'm having fun with this series.

The good sheriff may know of their relationship, but the people of Beacon Hills do not and, while Stiles would not look unkindly to his dad’s retirement, he still has a reputation to those people to uphold.

Allowing a man closer to his age than his son’s to grope said son’s ass in public is frowned upon in most cultures. 

So, they don’t really do PDA. They don’t really do public actually. So much work to be done on the house and so much pack bonding to be done in the apartment. 

Stiles snorts at the thought, Pack bonding has started to look an awful lot like fucking lately. But he digresses.

Peter is usually the one to go grocery shopping. He likes the mundanity of the task, walking to and from the store, planning out recipes to teach Stiles. It relaxes him. This time, however, he’s too busy with the house, and Stiles accompanies Derek to the store. 

Things are fine. Absolutely normal. Except for the fact that they’ve been in the store for five minutes and no less than three mothers have wrinkled their noses at them or clutched their child closer or both. 

Stiles is very confused because Beacon Hills is a lot of things but homophobic has never really been one of them. And that’s assuming they even know that they’re dating. They aren’t even holding hands or walking at the same pace. Stiles is pushing the cart as Derek fills it. 

It takes another twenty minutes and two nice old ladies giving them the stink eye to conclude that they definitely know that they’re together and it isn’t them they disapprove of so much as Derek. 

Derek continues to be oblivious, which, Stiles sighs. He is so lucky he has him and Peter to look out for him. 

One of the the old ladies catches his attention and he can see the silent question in her eyes. Are you okay? Do we need to take care of him? One word and we’ll make his life hell.

Stiles smiles at her in thanks but shakes his head no. He’s alright. Everything’s okay. I know you can get away with murder but you don’t have to.

She still looks hesitant but nods her head in acceptance before walking away.

Stiles looks back to where Derek is still bent down, inspecting a can of something. He’s wearing his tighter pair of jeans today. Stiles appreciates it. He’d appreciate it even more if they were off. Oh, but it’s such a pretty picture as is. Maybe a little more skin. There’s a middle ground to this, he knows it. 

“Ahem.”

Stiles is broken from his musings with a start. Derek is smirking at him. 

Stiles flips him off, “Are we done?”

“Yeah. This should do.”

Stiles turns the cart around and they make their way to the cashier.

“You know,” Stiles says as they hand their items to the cashier, “Peter’s just going to replace half this stuff when he sees it.”

“Just because he likes his processed crap does not mean he can’t eat a fruit or two.”

“You know what his excuse will be.”

“Nothing excuses the amount of zebra cakes we go through.”

Derek hands the cashier his debit cart. Stiles starts packing everything back into the cart.

“Thank the gods that you’ve got me then. You’d both be dead by now otherwise.”

Derek doesn’t have to say anything for Stiles to see how confused he is. Stiles doesn’t elaborate until they’re packing everything into the car.

“The cat’s out of the bag, or half the cat. I’m not sure actually, but people know we’re dating.”

Derek slams the trunk shut, which is about the equivalent to him doing a spit take. 

Stiles pats his bicep in mock sympathy, “Poor baby, don’t worry. Only five moms sneered at you when you weren’t looking and only three shielded their child from you.”

Derek looks like he’s going to be sick. Stiles frowns.

“Hey. It’s okay. Dad already knows and the real gossip power in this town is the grandmothers, not the moms. They can raise a fuss, but once Ellie and her gang get involved nobody will listen.” 

Derek is clenching his fists against the car.

Stiles takes him by the chin and guides him to meet his eyes, “Don’t worry baby. I’ll take care of this.” 

Stiles pulls him into a slow kiss. It’s just a simple press of lips, but when they part, Derek looks far lighter. 

“Why don’t I drive?”

Derek nods and makes his way to the passenger seat.

 

*** 

 

Stiles finds out how word got out Monday. 

Apparently, the guy who lived in the apartment his dad busted graduated from Beacon High two years ago and still had friends at the school. He must have thought getting his hands on video evidence of him and Derek together was good enough to get his dad fired or something. Stiles doesn’t know. That dude always seemed like an idiot to him. 

The video was blurry but Stiles recognized it as the time his dad caught them. How he even managed to get that, Stiles doesn’t know, but it hardly matters. It’s accompanied by pictures of him coming and going to their apartment, all at the same angle, and all at different hours. He must have taken them from the parking lot two stories down. 

None of them are bad enough to be censored, but the implication is enough that everyone either looks at him like he’s some sort of sex god, a victim, or scum. Scott is taking up about ninety percent of the victim treatment. 

It’s all so very tiresome. This is going to require immediate damage control and it has to be him because it’ll mean nothing from Derek or, the gods forbid, Peter.

At least Peter isn’t in any of the pictures.

He calls dad during lunch, sitting outside so he can actually hear him. 

He already knows. Stiles tells him to call Ellie. His dad protests. Stiles reminds him that his reputation, and therefore any hope of re-election, is only as good as Ellie’s word. His dad grumbles but agrees to talk to her. 

That doesn’t really help Stiles though. High school is going to be a constant headache from here on out, or until a bigger scandal occurs. 

Such short attention spans in such small towns. Stiles grins.

 

*** 

 

Finding dirt in this town is so laughably easy that Stiles has to physically bite in his cackle as he’s returned backstage. He finds plenty of ammunition to use, but he only needs enough for school. The rest can be put aside for future use. 

All traces of his relationship are erased from the various websites it crossed. People are buzzing about the up-and-coming drug running gang their good sheriff nipped in the bud. Ellie is an old friend and she’s an expert at manipulating the truth. 

Stiles wonders if she has any connection to the Fae.

Lips press against his neck as arms wrap around him from behind. 

“My darling mate. Has anyone ever told you that you would make a terrifying left hand?”

Stiles leans back into Peter’s arms. 

“Whatever do you mean,” Stiles makes sure Peter can see his half-smile. 

He’s fishing, so sue him.

Peter smirks into his hair, “Taking care of problems before I even hear of them. Shifting public opinion with such grace and subtly. It’s inspiring.”

“My dad is in the other room Peter. Behave yourself.”

Grease sizzles and pops from the skillet, narrowly missing Stiles’ arm. 

“Of course, but if you don’t think I won’t have Derek screaming our names tonight then you are sorely mistaken.”

Peter steps out of his space. Stiles clenches his teeth.

“You bastard. You know I can’t go tonight.”

“All good things…”

Peter is gone when Stiles turns to glare at him. 

He has to stall dinner while his hard-on calms down. 

 

*** 

 

Money opens so many doors. It also make new doors. 

The house already has doors because it’s nearly done and it’s beautiful. 

Stiles supposes calling it a house is a bit inaccurate. McMansion seems more appropriate a term for their new home. Plenty big enough for them and whoever joins their ranks in the years to come. 

It’s empty, but that just means Stiles can zip through all of the rooms without bruising himself. His dad is with them, and he looks impressed as he follows him through the house. Peter is talking is with the construction people and Derek has managed to find himself with a paintbrush in his hand. Stiles is left planning their furniture layout and he doesn’t think he’s stopped grinning in the past ten minutes. 

“You know,” his dad starts, “there’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of my sight before you turn eighteen.”

“Uhuh.”

“They’re good people, but it’s still a big commitment.”

“I know.”

“You’re staying under my roof.”

“Yep,” Stiles nods without looking up from his map, “or, you could just stay under mine.”

His planning is stopped by his dad’s hand over his. He looks up.

His dad is trying to get words out, but he’s clearly been caught off guard. Stiles takes pity.

“This is the pack house dad. By definition, you belong here.”

If Stiles was trying to help his dad collect himself, he has failed miserably. If anything, the man looks like he’s about to cry. Stiles is quick to drag him into a hug. 

“What do you think pack is? A cult?”

He shakes his head into his shoulder and crushes him to his chest.

Stiles smiles hopelessly into his hair and says, “We’re family. Nothing will make me forget that.”

“Damn right you won’t,” his dad grunts into his shoulder, giving one final squeeze before sitting up. 

“Besides,” Stiles laughs, “Somebody’s got to keep you from killing yourself. Between work and your heart, I can’t let you out of my sight.” 

His dad cuffs him on the back of his head and they share a fond look.

His dad picks the room the farthest from the master suite as he can get.

 

*** 

 

The wolf’s moon rises on the night of Turyn’s rebirth and Stiles can feel the earth beneath his bare feet sing with power and life. It buzzes through his skin and his eyes shine. Peter has already shifted into his true form, large and beautiful. Derek is just finishing folding their clothes and his dad is pretending not to be bothered by all the casual nudity in their woods on the back porch. 

Stiles closes his eyes. He breathes in, centering himself, letting his will guide the magic in the air and he shifts. 

He doesn’t look the same as Derek’s beta true form because he isn’t the same. He is no werewolf, but his will can do many things and giving him the form of a grey wolf is all the easier with the company he keeps. 

He is larger than Derek, but Peter still towers over him. He wags his tail as he scents him, closing his eyes in bliss as he curls around him, shielding him from the dangers of the world. 

Derek pounces, knocking them to their sides, and runs off into the woods. Stiles rolls upright and lets the momentum carry him forward. Peter howls and Stiles feels it in his veins, pushing him harder, faster, stronger. 

He catches up with Derek easily. He nips at his heels for a bit before tackling him to the ground. They scuffle. Derek sneezes. Stiles feels lighter than he has in years. 

Peter appears and they find themselves tumbling down a short hill and right into a lake. 

Derek is quick to jump out of the water, furiously shaking his fur dry. Stiles pounces on Peter, pushing him back into the water, before losing his balance and falling with him. 

Derek is looking far too smug when Stiles resurfaces. He flicks his tail and water splashes Derek in the face. 

He flinches back, mock growls, and Stiles bolts back into the trees.

His pack is never far behind him. 

 

*** 

 

His dad is patiently waiting for them when they return. 

Stiles, still high from their run, doesn’t bother to shift back as he hops onto his dad’s lap. 

He lets out a startled umph as Stiles presses his wet fur all over him. It doesn’t take long for him to start shoving at Stiles, but he’s too heavy to effectively push him off. 

Stiles lays down over his lap, tongue hanging as his chest heaves from the excursion. He crosses his paws and rests his head on them, looking up to see his dad huffing in resigned fondness down at him. 

He pats his head, grimaces at the dampness, and starts running his fingers through his fur. 

Stiles closes his eyes and lets his tail thump against the wood.

 

*** 

 

When Stiles wakes up, he’s naked and surrounded by fur. Derek is pressed to his back and his dad’s feet are propped up on his side. Peter is curled around his dad’s back, his long tail resting over him and Derek’s sides, and his muzzle inches from Stiles’ face. Hot air blows against his face as Peter exhales. He turns onto his back and sees his dad is also awake, leaning back against Peter’s stomach. 

His dad groans and pops his neck, absently adjusting Peter’s tail so that it covers Stiles enough for the illusion of propriety. 

Stiles smiles sleepily up at him, “Sleep well?”

“Well enough, considering I was being crushed by three oversized wolves. I half expected to have suffocated to death by now.”

Stiles chuckles, “I was perfectly average sized thank you very much.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” his dad grumbles. 

“Oh hush, I didn’t let you eat your rare steak for this.”

His dad closes his eyes and hums as if he could still taste the dinner they shared the night before. 

“Definitely perks to this whole werewolf thing. I’ll give you that.” 

“It’ll be even better once we get more people. People closer to your age and not dating your son. People who would benefit from this life. Peter’s got plans. Good ones, and I can’t wait to see them realized.”

“Jesus kiddo, you sound like you’ve got this all figured out.” 

“Nah. I’m just as clueless as everyone else. I’ve just got an endgame in mind.”

“More than I had at your age.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” 

They sit in comfortable silence, listening to the morning birds and breathing in the fresh air. 

“It’s Sunday,” Stiles states.

“Mmhm.”

“No work on Sundays.”

“Nope,” his dad pops the P.

“Good.”

Stiles closes his eyes and dozes.

 

*** 

 

Scott is finally paying attention to Stiles and it’s grating on his nerves. 

Who was that guy? Does his dad know? We can file a report. You’re not going to look weak. 

I know male abuse has a bad rep but we can’t just stay quiet about this either.

Stiles wants to strangle him. He takes a deep breath instead. 

Derek.

Like the—

Yes, the Derek Hale. Yes, we are dating. No, he is not abusing me. Yes, my dad knows. No, he is not going to shoot them. No, he is not hurting me either! Don’t even ask that!

“Them?”

The poor boy doesn’t even sound suspicious, just confused.

“Uhhh, yeah. Derek lives with his uncle so…” Stiles shrugs. It’s not a lie. Technically.

“Like the—“

“Yes. Peter Hale. The guy from the fire. Can we be done now?”

And… now Scott looks hurt. That’s just… that’s just great. Amazing. Stiles is a real stand-up guy right now.

He sighs. 

“It’s just not something I’m all that comfortable talking about. I’m still getting used to the fact that my dad knows and is regularly seeing us together.” 

Scott still looks sad, but he nods and changes the subject. 

The fact that the subject is Allison only annoys Stiles a little.

 

*** 

 

Econ is the last class of the day and Stiles is lamenting that fact as he’s held back by the collar of his shirt after the final bell rings. 

Finstock waits for everyone to leave before sitting him down in the front row and waits for the halls to quiet.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak.

Finstock lets the sound of the door falling shut answer for him. 

Stiles closes his mouth. 

“You are very good with a computer Stilinski.”

The fact that he isn’t doesn’t register so much as the fact that he used his real name. Finstock continues speaking.

“But that still doesn’t erase the fact that you’re caught up in something and it was all I could hear about for two days in this pool of hormones.” 

Stiles raises his hand and then lowers it when he feels stupid. “I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”

Finstock stares at him until he squirms.

“I’m talking about the fact that some asshole thinks he can take advantage of one of my kids and that you think that knowing your way around this town’s gossip train is enough to make the world turn the other way.”

“Aww c’mon. I thought we were past this. Everyone’s debating abortion rights now. Becky’s the center of attention these days. Go ambush her.” Stiles gestures to the door in increasingly ridiculous motions for emphasis. 

“Rebecca graduated five years ago and she met her boyfriend in my class. Because they shared it. Because they were the same age. If you think I’m going to let that bastard use your genius like this then—“

“You think I’m a genius?”

“Quit changing the subject!”

“I’m fine! I mean it. I am fine. More than fine. I’m great. He’s not abusing me okay!” the hand waving is entirely genuine this time. Stiles is more than frustrated. “This was welcome when dad did. Expected when Scott did it. I don’t need this again. The bases have been covered. My sheriff dad is allowing this. I don’t know what more you want from me,” Stiles huffs and falls back in the chair. 

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to be the one who failed you, or any one of these kids. For all I know, your sheriff dad betrayed you and you’re too afraid to tell me. I know you’re an excellent liar and I know people are scum. You can’t say this is unwarranted.”

Stiles sighs, “No, I can’t. But it is unnecessary.”

Stiles straightens in his seat. Looking Finstock dead in the eye, he says, “You’ve been my coach for three years. Now you’re my teacher. You probably know me better than my own best friend at this point. So you know that if what you think is happening was happening then I would never allow it. You know it would have already been taken care of. So trust me when I say that I am fine.” 

Finstock holds his gaze for an indiscriminate amount of time before relenting. Stiles leaves knowing there is no way in hell he’s letting this go, even if it means going behind his back. 

It’s annoying, but Stiles is glad to be looked after like this. 

Not that he’s ready to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

 

*** 

 

Nostalgia threatens to overwhelm the Stilinskis as they transport their life box by box. 

They don’t keep much, as is apparent by the scattered boxes in their appropriate rooms at the new house. Stiles smiles at how everything turned out as he makes his way to the kitchen. The house looks like it jumped straight out of a magazine. Pretty, but not yet lived in. That will change soon enough, Stiles thinks fondly as he watches Peter arrange what kitchen supplies they brought over on the kitchen island. 

Stiles kicks off from the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room and makes himself comfortable under Peter’s arm. 

With a kiss to the cheek, he says, “It’s beautiful.”

“All thanks to you,” Peter finishes, “All I did was throw money at it.”

Stiles hums, amused, “Modesty. It’s weird. Just gloat about how great an alpha you are like you want to.”

Peter chuckles, “Well, if you insist.”

“Where’s Derek,” his dad interrupts. 

Peter looks up from where he’d been leaning in. Stiles pouts. 

“Organizing his room.”

His dad nods and the sound of footsteps on the stairs follow soon after.

Stiles steps back and announces that he should get started on the suite himself. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles is organizing his dresser when his dad plops down on the chaise sitting opposite the super king-sized bed Peter picked out. Stiles continues putting away his clothes while he waits for his father to speak.

When Stiles finishes loading the bottom drawers, he looks to where his father is still deep in thought. Like this, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, jeans, and his socks, he looks as tired as he is. He looks human.

Stiles shakes the thought away. This is a happy time. 

“Your birthday is coming up.”

Stiles thinks about it and, “I guess it is.”

“You’ll be eighteen.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence falls over the room and Stiles is quick to fill it.

“We should do something, just the two of us. You can show me how to vote for you this year.”

His dad visibly brightens. Nodding, he says, “Yeah. Yes, that sounds great.”

Stiles looks to the piles of clothes on the bed, “Mind giving me a hand?”

His dad lifts himself up in answer, letting himself fall to the bed as he starts folding the clothes.

 

*** 

 

With Stiles out with his father, Peter and Derek are left to themselves in their new home. Finally given the opportunity, they take great delight in breaking in the new house. The couch, to be specific, and Derek’s office, the library, kitchen, hallway. 

Peter loves being a werewolf. 

Perhaps it shouldn’t be such a surprise that they lose track of time a little, but Peter still startles when he looks up from where they’re lazing on the couch and sees sheriff, might as well call me John, Stilinski frozen in the entryway. Stiles is leaning against the wall behind him, eyes clenched shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter is feeling much the same way when Derek finally opens his eyes to see what caused Peter to tense so suddenly. 

They can’t exactly hide what they were doing. For one, there’s not a stitch of clothing on either of them and they’re plastered together on the couch. Derek was lazily sucking marks into Peter’s neck, now fading from neglect. 

The sheriff is the one to speak first and it’s directed to his son. 

“Should I shoot them?”

Peter can see where the sheriff is coming from, but Stiles startles at the question.

“No!” Stiles puts himself between them. It’s sweet, but he’s isn’t even armed at the moment.

“So they’re allowed to be…” the sheriff gestures to where they are still together, though sitting up this time. Derek has seemed to have frozen, burying his face into Peter’s shoulder as if that would protect him from scrutiny. Peter wants to be endeared, he really does. 

“Yes. Derek had just joined us when you found out.”

The sheriff nods, more to himself than anything, Peter thinks. They all wait with baited breath for his verdict, but it seems that there is only so many revelations one man can take in such a short period of time. 

The sheriff sighs, “Is this the last werewolf thing or is there anything else I should know?”

“We’re working out the triple bond,” Peter says, might as well get that out in the open since Stiles is eighteen now, “Wolves may, in general, be much more liberal than many humans, but we have our issues. Polygamous relationships aren’t often taken seriously, but the bonding of more than two people is possible.”

“I’m,” the sheriff starts, “I’m not even going to touch that. I don’t care anymore. Do what you want. Get werewolf married. I can’t stop you. I’m taking a nap.”

He pats Stiles’ shoulder as he passes him. The lone downstairs bedroom’s door clicks shut and Stiles’ shoulders sag as he falls back against the couch. 

Peter can relate, as evidently can Derek. The poor boy lets out a breath that can not have been comfortable to hold for such a long amount of time. Peter resumes tracing the lines of his tattoo; it relaxes both of them.

“Did we just break my dad?”

“I’m sure he just needs some time to process.”

“It can’t have too big of a shock,” Derek says, “We’ve all got our own room but only Peter’s has our bed.”

“You know, I thought he’d have questioned that actually.”

“He probably already half-knew, in all honesty,” Peter drawls.

“Still,” Stiles fixes them with a glare, “We were gone all day. How the hell did you guys not make yourselves decent before we got back?”

Peter smirks and Derek’s grin is all teeth. Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“You’re ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

“Now dear,” Peter teases, “there’s no need to be jealous.” 

“Please, how could I feel such ugly things when I’ve got a sight like this to come home to?”

Derek snorts and they all break into stifled laughter.

 

*** 

 

If Peter is good at one thing, it’s understanding people. It’s how he protected his family for as long as he did and he isn’t about to fall out of the habit just because of a shiny new title. 

Stiles and Derek were all he’s needed until now. They ground him, love him. It’s always good to have a good internal structure before looking outwards, but it’s been long enough that word will have gotten out. A new Hale alpha in Beacon Hills. Powerful but easily outnumbered. 

They’ll be a target now. Out of the shadows and into a shiny new house. It’s as much a statement as any. They need more people if they’re to keep the territory. 

It’s why he’s here, in a dingy little bar in an overlooked part of town. If there’s one place you can find good people who are just waiting for the chance at getting their life together, it’s places like this. 

He doesn’t dress up for his little scouting mission, but his clothes are clean and it’s clear he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. Stiles has already been here a few times, gathering information and getting to know some of the more promising candidates. 

Peter watches Wendy from the corner of his eye. She’s a tall woman, lean but not weak. Her hair is chopped short, probably for lack of time for upkeep rather than aesthetic. She works two jobs, both at minimum wage. Lives with three roomates for rent. No family to speak of. Whether they’ve broken ties or they aren’t around to have ties to, Peter doesn’t know. She would definitely benefit from the bite, but this isn’t a charity. Peter will have to ask Stiles to find out how her coworkers think of her. 

Martin, the bartender, passes him on his way to another patron. He’s built, stoic but charming in his own way. Peter suspects a skill of the job rather than any natural talent. Peter orders another drink. Best not to look like a strange man picking out his intended. Which, he is, but he’s not here to make anyone uncomfortable. 

A group of loud kids, college if Peter were to guess, come in and made their way to a booth. The noise grates on Peter’s senses and he decides to leave. He isn’t making any progress and it’s getting late. Derek should be home by now. Stiles ought to be asleep. 

He’s distracted when he walks out of the bar, thinking of a hot shower and a warm bed, and he doesn’t think to look where he was stepping. He regains his balance well enough, but the child he tripped over falls onto their butt with a whimper. He looks down and it is indeed a child. Peter scans the area, but he doesn’t see any frantic parents. He turns his attention back to the boy, or girl, Peter can’t really tell, to see they’ve already gotten up. The top of their head reaches his hip. they’re far too skinny. There are bags under his eyes and Peter has a really bad feeling about what he’s stumbled on. 

“My apologies,” Peter says, because it’s only polite and a little respect can gain far more trust than is often warranted. “I should’ve been looking where I was going. Are you alright?”

The child nods. Peter’s thinking ten maybe, but it’s hard to tell the age of a clearly malnourished child. 

“Where are your,” Peter almost says parents and then rethinks it, “guardians? It isn’t safe to be vulnerable in a place like this.”

Fear floods his senses as the child opens their mouth to speak. It takes a moment, but eventually they manage a broken, “Please,” before mouthing the word no over and over again. 

Peter frowns. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy only grows more frustrated and clings to his pant leg as he moves his mouth in the form of words but Peter can’t read lips and the fact only threatens to frustrate him in turn. He doesn’t let it show, however. That would only frighten the child further. 

Sound is just starting to escape the child’s lips when Peter hears someone around the corner muttering under their breath. He comes into view and Peter inwardly recoils. He’s a greasy man who looks to be in his mid-forties. The smell of cheap alcohol is so ingrained into his person that Peter can smell it long before he stomps over to them. The child is clinging with both hands now, cowering behind him, and Peter distaste quickly turns to understanding. He sneers at the pudgy finger pointing accusingly at the child and the stuttered rantings of the man. The man attempts to jab him, and is promptly on his knees wailing in pain, his fingers bent at an uneven angle.

Peter turns to the shaking child and squats down to eye level. He offers to pick him up wordlessly and the child clings to him, wrapping themselves around his front and hiding their face in his jacket. Peter ignores the bellowing of the drunk behind him as he walks to his car. John should be home by now, having been convinced into taking less hours now that bills are no longer a looming threat. It’ll be far less intimidating for the child, at least, to be questioned by the sheriff when he’s out of uniform. 

The child is pliant when Peter buckles him into the passenger seat and quiet the whole drive. Peter glances to them every now and again. 

The child never takes his eyes off him.

**Author's Note:**

> 2 more works she said  
> 2 at the most  
> HA yeah okay. I've lost all control.
> 
> Can you guess what's up with the kids speech? I think it's pretty obvious but I wrote it so what do you think? Here's a whim. First one right gets to pick a kink I'll write. If it doesn't fit this series it'll be a one-shot instead. I'm thinking of writing a little thing just for Stiles' birthday present from his favorite wolves.


End file.
